New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1887-05-25

river that had used to love SO in the
sunshine, all blue and silver; that ]
had loved so, dimpling III it's soft grays
IN rainy weather; where I had never
tired OF seeing the ice-boats dart along
| when it lay white under it's wintry
mall-the river that now, in my grief
| and trouble and WEAKNESS, flowed
! past as calmly as il / had never seen
it. How could it be so irresponsible,
rolling on bright and strong and
steady, giving me back no sympathy
| now in my sorrowful mood, Civ
ing me even no vantage-gr ound?-for
| should have hadto wade into it if I
had'wanted to drown myself. Yes, l
began to hate the river / began to
hate, too, these long, Jlresome, mo-.
tionless levels OF the grass lands-Oh,
SO fiat, SO monotonous, SO low! zone
is simply underground here" I said
to myself. zone has really not the
air to breathe. One becomes like
those slugs that live under the damp
side of a stone. am under a stone
myself. Oh, for just breath of air
from some point little way UP the
sky" l began to hate, l say, the
long green grass fields; and than l be-
gan to hate the farm life. E'Iti is dull,
sordid, base work, let them say what
they please said I, s'from the pitch
ing about OF the barn-yard muck to
the last results OF it. It is all non
sense about it's being the one noble
occupation. So is the cooks, then,
too" And l hated the great cattle in
the yard, the smell OF the frothing
pals of milk, the click OF the stanch.
ions, the cheese making, the butter.
| packing-everything that belonged to
all the dull round OF the farm duties.
| went about to see the work done,
and said a word to the maids, here,
the men there; and I went and sat
down by my kindling autumn fire, and
felt that if I had to live here forever l
had better die and be done with it. l
had rather die and be done with it
anyway, If I was never to see Mark
any more; but then that was no new
| feeling.
Do what I would, my thoughts
would follow Mark. Was he there
alone in his fathers house? Was he
riding gayly round the country, visit
ing other houses, other girls happier,
than l, hearing music, joining in laugh
ter? Or was he travelling off in distant
regions, seeing new sights and forget
ting the old, forgetting the past and
me in fresh experience? Orwas he sit
ting at home there in the long dim
room whose windows looked through
the pine-wood vista over the broad
valley and away to the blue mount
aims? No one told me; no one ever
ventured to mention his name to me.
But somehow placed him there inthe
long dim room, and there my fancy
kept following him and lowering about
him. Now he sat by the freside there,
IN che deep chair, reading, now he was
busy with maps and pictures at the
table; now, in the big bay, the moon
light, that had pale green reflections in
| it cast up from the emerald depths of
the woods below, fell about him.
dare say that, in reality, busy
| about the place and his affairs of one
sort or another, and doing his best
to live and to forget, he was very little
in that room; but there chose to
place him; and it grew strangely sweet
to me, and every moment when I
could sit down alone my fancy took
me and sat down in that room, or
| else l wandered up and down the
great staircase and the hall where his
peoples portraits hung; but I always
came back again to the hearth of the
long dim room if it were day, to the
dancing fire-cast shadows there if it
were night, and the place grew dearer
and dearer to me every hour, and I
upbraided myself in thoughts too bit
ter for speech for the folly and angry
temper that had shut me out OF it,
that had drawn comparison between
that ancient lofty place and this low
| and tlresOme stretch OF nothing, but
common grass lands, between that
manor and this plain m-house, al
though in real truth my farmhouse,
was quite its equal at any other time.
But the new year came in without a
sign from Mark Or a sign from me;
and the country was white with snow,
and the river ice was strong enough to
bear UP sledges and teams OF horses,
and the iceboats were splitting the
wind before them. It al made no
odds to me. Twas completely wretch.
ed. / didn't pretend to go to church
or to any Of the society meetings; and
if the Sawyers and Wellses came to
me, l suppose treated them prop
erly-I'm sure I don't know-but I
never set my foot outdoors the win
ter long
There were furious storms that win
ter. The snow fell as I never remem-
Dered it before The drifts seemed to
wall us IN from all the world. ga liv-
ing tomb, used to murmer. esIwish
it were a tomb indeed, and I in my
last Sleep" At twenty, one can be so
very miserable; and at thirty, if one
lives so long, one can be so profane
as to laugh at it.
Sometimes Bryan and Thomas
brought word OF the outside regions,
OF the way people up-river We're sleigh
riding over the tops OF fences, of the
| immense snowfall in the mountains,
and the fears Of what would hannen